


Ricochet and Shatter

by Ariana Deralte (ArianaDeralte)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Competence Kink, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hopeful Ending, Jangobi Week (Star Wars), Jangobi Week 2021, Loss of Limbs, M/M, Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Movie: Star Wars: Attack of the Clones, Planet Melida | Daan (Star Wars), Some angst, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series References, Time Travel, enemies to lovers speedrun, forced to work together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:13:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29230557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArianaDeralte/pseuds/Ariana%20Deralte
Summary: When Jango finds out that Tyrannus is Dooku, he decides to enlist the captured Jedi's help in taking him down.
Relationships: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 474
Kudos: 1124
Collections: Best in Fandom, Jangobi Week, Suggested Good Reads





	1. It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't stand to let Jangobi Week pass by without producing something other than How a Romance Novel Saved the Galaxy, so here I have combined several of the prompts:) Shouldn't be more than 2-3 chapters. (She says, hoping that that is the case...).

The arrogance of this shabuir, Dooku!

Jango had been hired ten years ago by a shadowy figure who called themselves Darth Tyrannus. Moneywise, it had been a great deal, and his son, Boba, was priceless, but he had known that if he refused, he would have been dead. The dar’jetii would have killed him and found some other template for the clones.

He liked that he was promised some revenge on the Jedi, but ten years of observing how the long necks instilled a love of said Jedi into his ~~ade~~ clones, and he could only conclude that it would have something to do with the control chips they were putting in their heads because his clones would not willingly hurt the Jedi. All those years preparing them for the realities of war, and someday, with the flip of a switch, they’d be little more than flesh droids.

Jango had done a lot of things he wasn’t proud of over the years, but the shame when he had finally realized what was going to happen after arriving back on Kamino a couple of days ago had been overwhelming. He’d needed time to plan and figure out what he was going to do. _Was it even possible to save the clones at this point?_ But then a handsome Jetii had shown up at his door and he had fled to Geonosis with Boba.

Now Tyrannus had casually revealed he was really Dooku, the karking Jetii who murdered his people on Galidraan! And for some reason, the shabuir thought Jango wouldn’t have a problem with this! He had left, taking Boba with him and pretending he was going to follow the alarms that had started blaring about intruders in the droid manufacturing plant.

Once they were out of sight of anyone, he turned to his ad. “Boba, get back to the ship and prep it for flight. If I’m not there in an hour, take off and jump to rendezvous point 3. I’ll find you there.”

“But, buir!”

“No arguments. Go!”

Jango still had the same problem he had had when he was offered this job ten years before, and it was even worse since Dooku, of all people, had seen how he had killed six Jedi on Galidraan. You had to get in close, inside the guard of their sabers because their hand to hand skills were middling at best. He had studied up on the man with the hopes of getting the opportunity to kill him someday. Dooku was one of the best lightsaber fighters the Jedi had ever produced. There was no way Jango could take him on his own, and it went against all his instincts to waste the opportunity he had today.

He changed direction and headed towards a holding cell.

“Hello again,” said the Jedi in that ridiculous flirty tone of his.

Jango studied him. He knew how to get the Jedi on his side. “I was hired ten years ago by someone calling themselves Darth Tyrannus.” Kenobi’s eyes widened. “He wanted an army of clones to be used both by and against the Jedi. I found out today that Darth Tyrannus is Dooku.”

“You Jedi are supposed to kill dar’jetii, right? So help me do it today, and I’ll tell you everything I know.” Maybe this was the way to save the clones?

“I have no objection,” said Kenobi, though he looked troubled.

Jango deactivated the controls. Kenobi crashed to the ground, and Jango waited impatiently for him to regain his feet. “This will be a hard fight,” Kenobi warned. “I have fought a Sith before, and it took all I had _and_ my master’s life to win.”

“Why do you think I wanted some backup? It’s not because of your pretty face,” sneered Jango.

“Ah, but _you_ _do_ think I’m pretty,” said Kenobi, and batted his karking eyes at Jango.

Jango huffed and tossed some binders at the man. “Put those on, but don’t close them. You’ll need your Jedi weapon, right?”

“Preferably.”

They were running low on time. Kenobi was scheduled for execution in half an hour so he’d be missed soon. Dooku had quarters high up in one of the towers here. He’d probably store the weapon there, and possibly might even be there for them to confront. Jango headed for the nearest lifts.

++++++

Dooku’s quarters seemed to be even darker than the Geonosians preferred, and that was saying something.

“The dark side is strong in here,” said Kenobi. “We should be wary.”

Jango scanned the room with his helmet, but his hud showed no hidden traps, only zeroed in on the shape of a lightsaber, tucked into an alcove up against a large chunk of carved obsidian. He marched straight over to it, and Kenobi followed.

“Fett! Don’t-”was all Kenobi had time to say before Jango’s hand brushed the rock. He could feel Kenobi grab his wrist over his gauntlet before the world went black.

He woke up feeling lighter. Not just in mood, but in body as well. It was such a weird thought that he snapped fully awake with a cry.

“Oh good, you’re up. Maybe you can interact with your surroundings?” The voice speaking to him was a child’s. He turned and saw a kid, perhaps five or six years old with red hair and freckles scattered across his round face.

“Kenobi?”

“Not in the flesh,” said the kid, and casually put a hand into the floor! Now that Jango looked closely, he could see the boy was slightly translucent.

“What happened? How did you get de-aged?”

“That was a Sith artifact you touched, and it’s not just me.” Jango looked down at himself before heading to the fresher. No wonder he’d felt lighter in body. The face looking at him was freshly fifteen if he had to make a guess, and his curls weren’t cut short like the way he’d started wearing them after he became Mand’alor. He came back out of the fresher. He was in a small, single person cabin on a military transport which looked like _every_ other cabin he’d ever been in. The only confusing thing was his armor piled in the corner. He hadn’t worn armor in those colors for years!

“I think we’ve travelled back in time somehow,” said Kenobi, his little voice sounding forlorn. Jango knocked his hand against the bulkhead. Unlike Kenobi, he didn’t pass through. He was solidly here while Kenobi was a ghost.

“We could have just been teleported and de-aged only,” said Jango, just to be contrary.

Kenobi pouted at him, and kark, it was so cute on a six year old’s face! He pointed at the wall. “I fell through that wall accidently after I woke up. There’s Mandalorians wearing the mark of the mythosaur throughout this ship. I don’t believe that is possible if we’re in our current time.”

The mark of the Haat’Mando’ade. The True Mandalorians. There were so few of them left after Galidraan. Many of those who hadn’t been there had simply dropped the sigil, or so Jango had been told. He’d been a slave for years after the massacre, captured after killing his final Jedi then sold by the Governor of Galidraan.

Osik. He scrambled to grab the pad near the bed, then had to stare at it for a long moment trying to remember the passwords he’d used back then. Finally, he recalled and put it in. Plans and notes came up, as did the date.

He sat down on the bunk with a thump.

“What is it?”

“Tomorrow is the assault on Korda Six. Tomorrow is the day my buir and all hope for Mandalore dies.”


	2. Effecting Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all my reviewers:) This fic might be four chapters since I'd hoped to finish Galidraan by the end of this chapter, rather than just start it, but I'm still mostly on track...

For all his flirting, Kenobi was a practical man. He had quickly gotten Jango to brief him on the details of the assault, and they had both plotted out what they, or rather Jango, needed to do to save his buir. Montross had betrayed them and leaked their battle plans to Death Watch, so Jango, as one of the squad leaders, needed to change as much of the plans as he could without Montross finding out, then kill the shabuir in the heat of battle. Or, Kenobi suggested, they could have Montross find out then record him giving the changed plans to Death Watch.

To do that, he’d need Jas’buir’s cooperation. He’d have to actually talk to his buir decades after his death.

“Go talk to your buir, Jango,” said Kenobi in a gentle tone. “I’ll spy on Montross in the meantime!” He sounded like Boba, excited to go on a mission. Watching him run out the unopened door to his quarters was weird.

The best theory they’d been able to come up with for why he was a ghost and Jango was solid was that Jango had been fully touching the artifact while Kenobi had been touching Jango’s armor. As it was, Kenobi looked exactly as he had in 948ARR, complete with what were apparently Jedi initiate robes. Jango had woken in a sleep tunic which he changed out for his armor while he braced himself for the shock of seeing his buir again.

He knocked on his buir’s door, and after a few seconds it slid open. Jas’buir was next to the door, and for a moment, the image of him, dead in his armor, black hair askew and face spattered in blood and mud superimposed over his buir’s clean face.

Jango took a deep breath to steady himself. He was going to prevent it from happening.

“You all right, Jan’ika?”

“Fine, buir. I just had some ideas about the battle tomorrow. I know it’s late, but I think there are some things we can change to make our odds better. Can I show you?” Most of Jango’s squad had also died in the battle, so Jango would save them if he could, but Jaster was the most important.

“Of course,” said buir, and gestured him inside. “I just made some shig. You want some?”

Jango made a face. Shig was way too bitter for him.

Jas’buir laughed. Jango suddenly remembered that ever since he was adopted, buir had teased him by offering him shig, claiming he found the faces Jango made at the thought really funny, though they were nothing compared to the face he had made the one time he tried the drink.

He’d buried all his good memories of Jaster so deep over the years. He really should try to recall them, if only for Boba’s sake. His son deserved some tales about his ba’buir.

They went over the careful plans he and Kenobi had made. Jango really needed to ask the Jetii how he got so good at strategy and tactics – it was not a skill he expected a Jetii to have. Kenobi had even added in some ideas which he said were solely for Jaster to reject so he’d accept the important parts of their plan.

It went exactly as Kenobi said it would. Jaster threw out the bits that were extraneous and accepted his revised plan, though he acted a bit confused that Jango planned to keep his squad near him in the battle. Jango remembered wanting to have his own command, far separate from his buir at that age, but kark that idea. He was watching his buir’s back in this battle, even if they managed to get rid of Montross before the fight started.

“Now get to sleep, Jan’ika,” said Jaster, clapping his hand on Jango’s shoulder. “We’re going to have to get up even earlier if we’re to brief the verd’e before battle.”

“You could tell Montross now so he could spread the word? It could save us some time.”

“Good suggestion.” Buir’s eyes were warm and proud.

Jango couldn’t help himself. He crushed his buir in a hug. It was completely out of character for him as a touchy teenager, but Jaster didn’t seem to mind.

“Vor entye, Jas’buir.”

“You’re my ad, Jan’ika. No thanks needed.” Jango nodded. He quickly left so he could hide the moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes. He hadn’t cried in years, and he wasn’t going to start now.

He ignored the look on little Kenobi’s face when he got back to his room. He didn’t need the Jetii’s pity!

He was a bit surprised when he exited the fresher after washing his face to see the little boy standing in the center of the room, hands on hips. “There is a difference between pity and sympathy,” said Kenobi, the solemn look all wrong on his cherubic face.

It took a moment for him to work out what the Jedi meant. “Who did you lose?” he asked, then regretted it immediately. The little Jedi looked devastated, and visibly struggled to answer with Jedi calm.

“My master. They are the closest thing Jedi have to parents,” Kenobi admitted. The one killed by a Sith. Osik. And the only consolation Jango could offer was that maybe this karking Sith artifact might take them there next.

“I need to go,” he blurted out. And he truly did. He’d have to be wandering the ships corridors to overhear Montross’ transmission, but he couldn’t help feeling like a coward for fleeing from the conversation. He shook off the ridiculous urge to give the little Jedi a comforting hug, and headed out the door.

++++++

Obi-wan was struggling. He still had the Force even if he couldn’t interact with anything in the environment, and the only person on the ship who could see him was Jango. But the Force was so light. His mind kept drifting to his actual six year old years instead of the problem at hand.

When had the Force become so dark for him? Was it when he turned twelve and realized he was going to spend the year desperately hoping a Master would select him for training? Was it the first, or the second, or the countless other times Bruck got him into trouble, and Obi-wan’s version of events wasn’t believed by their clan master? Surely it wasn’t the visions he’d had all through his childhood? Visions of him wandering the corridors of the Temple with the certainty that he was the only living being there. Or he was alone in an endless desert with only the whisper of the sand on the dunes his companion, the Force dark and empty.

His body was six year’s old, even if his mind was not. He truly couldn’t help the tears he had learned to keep at bay early in his apprenticeship.

Eventually, he calmed enough to reach out the Force again, throwing himself as deep into a meditation trance as his body allowed. He was surprised how easy it was, even though his little body was huddled in a ball on Jango’s bed.

And the Force! The Force gently guided him to see his self-centered error. The Force wasn’t dark just for him in the future. It was dark for _everyone_. And it was lighter here, far from Coruscant.

Perhaps his Grandmaster had been telling the truth about there being a Sith in the senate? His first instinct was to deny it, as he had denied it to Dooku just a few hours ago because surely the Jedi would have sensed it? But he knew first hand that the Sith still existed when they should have been wiped out a thousand years ago. And the Sith had many strange Force powers. Was it really so hard to believe that one had developed enough skill at shielding to stand right in front of a Jedi and not be sensed?

The contrast in the Force was very obvious to him here and now compared to his present. But what if it had darkened ever so gradually over the years, so slowly that the Jedi hadn’t noticed, like they were crustaceans in a pot being brought to boil?

He would have to see when (or if) they were brought back to the present. And that was assuming this all wasn’t a Sith simulation or torture method. He hadn’t mentioned it to the bounty hunter, but it would be just like the Sith to bring you back to one of the most traumatic events in your life, make you hope that you could change it, then make you relive the injury all over again. He didn’t think it was a simulation, simply because he had observed plenty of conversations throughout the ship while he waited for Fett to wake up, and there had been way too much detail and even absurdity (two married Mandalorians debating in heavily accented Mando’a whether their tooka or kid was cuter!) present for it to be a Sith simulation projected into their heads. But still, the doubt remained.

Obi-wan hoped, for both his and Jango’s sakes, that they could change the timeline.

++++++

When he came back to the room, a few hours later, Jango was jubilant about the success of their plan. He’d lingered near the vents which led through Montross’ room, setting his helmet to recording the moment he heard Montross’ voice. His treasonous conversation with Tor Viszla came through loud and clear. Jango had only had to grit his teeth for a few minutes before Montross said enough to secure his death. Then Jango burst into the man’s quarters, getting a holo image of Viszla before Montross could react.

The fight had been brutal, mostly because Jango just wasn’t at his adult weight or height yet while Montross was. And both of them had been wearing their armor and had weapons at reach. In the end, the fight had spilled out into the corridor, and Jango had driven a vibroknife into the man’s thigh before Jas’buir and a number of other verd’e came to see what was going on.

What followed became an impromptu trial for Montross once the footage Jango took was shown. The only reason the man wasn’t dead right now was because Jas’buir thought he might have more info on Death Watch, but Montross hadd been sentenced to death for treason after his interrogation.

As it was, it was now the early hours of the morning and everyone was awake and buzzing with the news. They wouldn’t (and shouldn’t) go into battle until they could figure out how to turn the trap on Death Watch, so Jango and the rest of the verd’e had been ordered to get some rest, even though he knew his buir was still awake, planning what to do.

It was going to be a very different battle of Korda Six! He couldn’t wait to rip through Death Watch tomorrow.

But the sight he saw when he got back to his room made his elation fade. Kenobi was huddled in a forlorn ball on Jango’s bunk, eyes closed in either sleep or maybe despair? Tear tracks clear on the boy’s face.

Jango sat down next to him, hoping to provide a bit of comfort even as he reminded himself that this was an adult Jedi in a child’s body and it was only his looks that were making his buir instincts kick into overdrive. He hated Jedi, even this little one whose ginger hair was sticking up all over the place like a wild tooka’s. His hand twitched to smooth it down, but he clenched it into a fist and didn’t move. His fingers would just pass through the boy’s hair anyway.

“It’s done. Montross is locked up and everyone knows his treachery,” he said.

The Jedi opened his eyes slowly. Maybe he’d been meditating?

“That’s good to hear. I hope we have done enough,” said Kenobi.

Jango hadn’t had a lot of hope in his life. Whenever he did, it was snatched away. He settled for certainty instead, even though deep down, he was anything but. “We did enough.”

The adrenaline from the fight and subsequent trial was beginning to fade. Jango suddenly realized how exhausted he truly was. He set an alarm on his com, pulled off his breast and back plates, and decided that was enough effort for the day. He slumped sideways so he was lying with his back to the wall, Kenobi’s still curled up form in front of him on the edge of the bunk. He fell asleep between one blink and the next.

++++++

It was cold when Jango woke up. He was curled into a ball to conserve body heat under a nice thick blanket, but where his face stuck out, his breath was producing a cold mist.

“We’re on Galidraan,” said Kenobi, glumly. Jango was alarmed, but that alarm was derailed by different concerns when he looked at Kenobi. The Jedi was perched on the end of Jango’s cot, looking the picture of misery, quite literally. Somewhere between the ages of 11 and 13, he had on a threadbare, black dust covered jumpsuit and a slave collar around his neck. His freckles were still just about visible through the dust on his face. Jango, unthinkingly, reached out to wipe the dust away, but they both flinched when his hand went through Obi-wan’s cheek instead.

“I hadn’t realized Galidraan happened the same time I was on Bandomeer,” said Obi-wan, not meeting his eyes.

“What happened on Bandomeer?” asked Jango. That was supposed to be Republic space, so slavery should have been outlawed.

“A dark Jedi sold me into slavery on a deep sea mining rig to get revenge on my future Jedi Master.” Obi-wan said it with a wry twist of his lips, as if it were a joke, but his appearance undermined any humor.

“Are you all right?” Jango didn’t know why he asked that. No, that was a lie. He asked because he well remembered the weight of the collar around his neck.

“I’m fine. It was only for three days that time.” Obi-wan’s hand crept up to clutch at his neck, in the same action Jango had rigorously trained himself out of. The boy flinched when his hand encountered the actual collar. Liar. He wasn’t fine.

But it wasn’t like Jango could do anything about it at the moment.

“Have you been out to look?” he asked.

Obi-wan nodded. “This is a huge True Mandalorian camp, and your buir is here in the tent next to this one.” Some of the tension in Jango’s body eased. They had done it. The timeline was changed. He was sad to have missed the battle the next day or all that extra time with his buir, but now they were at another awful event in the long line of traumatic events that made up Jango’s life, so maybe, just maybe, they could change Galidraan as well.


	3. Connecting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm... five chapters, maybe?

Focusing on Galidraan was infinitely easier than focusing on the collar around his neck again. The only reason Obi-wan knew anything about the massacre was because it was in his briefing for the mission to Mandalore with his Master when he was seventeen. He’d always privately thought it was an event that should be much more widely known, what with the Senate and the Jedi being tricked into massacring an entire group by a bunch of terrorists. There should have been public penance for the event by both the Senate and the Jedi.

The report on Galidraan had said that the Jedi had protested to the Senate, and Master Dooku had independently sent a letter making his ire at being turned into a “murdering marionette of the Senate”, known. But getting the Senate to hold itself accountable for setting a budget was difficult. Getting them to admit to a massacre? Impossible.

He wondered if this was the point where his Grandmaster began to turn against the Republic and start his long fall to the dark side? Could Obi-wan save him in the process of saving the True Mandalorians?

Jango went over the details of Galidraan with him, discussing the events of the day in the clipped and faraway tone of a man disassociating from his words. Not that Obi-wan could blame him. Jango had fallen silent after saying his friend and second in command had been cut in half by a Jedi.

“I know it isn’t much,” he found himself saying. “But I’m sorry for what the Jedi did to you and your people. It’s true that we were tricked, but that doesn’t negate the fact that it happened.”

Jango stared at him. “You weren’t involved,” he finally said. “So no apology is needed. Not from _you_.”

“I would like to think that if I were in charge of the Jedi mission to Galidraan, I would have questioned the Governor here more. Perhaps even asked for holos of proof. Or if I’d known more of Mandalore, asked if the Governor was sure it was the Haat’Mando’ade and not some other group of Mandalorians since the True Mandalorians would never kill children.” Jango looked ashamed at that statement, and Obi-wan had to wonder if he’d broken that creed. “Even knowing that, I might have done the exact same thing as Dooku in the same circumstances.”

Jango gave a harsh laugh. “I’ve known you for about a day, and _I_ can guarantee you wouldn’t. You didn’t attack me without asking questions on Kamino either.”

Obi-wan braced himself. “Shall we put it to the test then?”

“What? How?”

“I know the Jedi com codes. As soon as they leave hyperspace, you com them with the truth.”

“You want me to com _karking_ DOOKU?” Jango dissolved into some impressive curses in Huttese. Obi-wan had to resist the urge to scold him for language like he did with Anakin.

The shout and subsequent cursing were loud; the tent only had a flap for a door.

“Jan’ika? You okay in there?” came a voice from outside the tent.

“Lek, buir! Didn’t expect my beskar to be so cold.”

The voice chuckled. “Bit of a wakeup call, I take it.” The man stepped into the tent. Jaster Mereel, Obi-wan presumed. Black hair streaked with gray. Pure beskar armor with red trimmings and a red cape. He also had two cups in his hands. “Want some hot shig?” Mmm, shig. Obi-wan hadn’t had any in ages. He wished he could accept on Jango’s behalf.

“Very funny, buir.” Jango looked very cute pouting at his father. He must be in his early twenties round about now. Pity he’d buzzed his curls.

Mereel smirked at him. “No? How about caf then?”

“Mmm.” Jango fell upon the cup of caf like a starving nexu.

Jaster gave Jango a brief overview of the day. One squad would be staying back to break down the camp while the other two were finishing up the final insurgent strong hold. They would leave in an hour, so Obi-wan and Jango were running out of time.

Once Jaster was gone, Jango turned to him. “If you think I’m leaving the safety of my people in the hands of that karking shabuir, you’re not thinking at all!” The fury in his eyes was breathtaking. Why was Obi-wan always attracted to people who were passionate about saving their people?

“I’m not suggesting we rely solely on Dooku’s largesse. But the best chance of averting this with no casualties is by preventing the confrontation between the Jedi and the True Mandalorians. You mentioned that Death Watch are inside the Governor’s mansion, preparing an ambush for whoever comes to collect the payment?”

Jango nodded.

“Then we need an excuse to go there and investigate. Maybe you got some intel that the insurgents were targeting the Governor’s mansion?”

“I’d have to doctor that up,” said Jango. His face was thoughtful as he considered the plan.

“We should take buir and some others along. If we can keep Vizsla from running and make him actually face buir in battle…”

“He’d be the uncontested Mand’alor,” finished Obi-wan. Well, baring the New Mandalorians, but Obi-wan was going to avoid opening that can of worms. “It’s also possible that we changed the timeline enough that Death Watch isn’t going to attack,” he suggested wryly.

Jango chuckled. “We’d never be that lucky,” he said. Obi-wan nodded in agreement.

++++++

It was a grueling, anxiety filled day in the end. Getting his buir and an entire squad to the Governor’s without either tipping off Death Watch, the Governor, or his verd’e required some slicing on Jango’s part and a lot of finicky conversations that were more suited to a spy than the bounty hunter Jango had become. Fortunately, he had Obi-wan as backup. The Jedi had the art of communication down pat, and made suggestions that, with just subtle word changes, made people much more receptive to what Jango was trying to do. When he wouldn’t look like a crazy person talking to thin air, Jango was going to ask how in the galaxy the Jedi happened to be fluent in Mando’a.

With Obi-wan able to scout through walls and report back, actually surprising Death Watch in the Governor’s mansion had been relatively easy. Tor Vizsla was cornered when he tried to escape. Once he and Jas’buir engaged, not even Death Watch were stupid enough to interfere in a duel for Mandalore’s succession. Jaster Mereel emerged victorious just as the Jedi ships came down for a landing. Jango had been broadcasting the fight to them the entire time. It was his compromise with Obi-wan since he didn’t want to actually talk to Dooku.

He leaned against the cold stone wall of the Governor’s mansion. The Governor was being held for questioning on his lying to the Senate and working with known terrorists.

“You don’t have to look so smug,” he said quietly.

Obi-wan glanced at him. The truth is that he didn’t look smug, just happy watching Jas’buir and Dooku talk peacefully in the courtyard. “He’s my ba’buir,” the Jedi admitted.

“What? He had you scheduled for execution on Genosis!” Jango hissed.

“That’s what happens when you fall to the dark side. You stop caring about others, even aliit.” It was funny how they’d both started mixing more Mando’a into their speech after all the time speaking it today. “I have hope that we’ve not just saved the Haat’Mando’ade today, but my grandmaster as well. It would be nice _not_ to have to help you kill him when we get back,” he said wistfully.

Jango didn’t know enough about this Force osik to know if that was even possible. Could they truly be changing their own timeline? It seemed too good to be true so it probably was.

“How do you know Mando’a anyway?” he asked, rather than dwell on what the dar’jetii artifact was putting them through.

The Jedi’s blush was just about visible through the black smudges on his face. “I was on Manda’yaim for about a year for a mission, uhm, four or so years from now.”

Jango knew the Mandalorian Clan Wars had happened then, but not much about them other than the curses of the Cuy’val Dar back on Kamino. He’d spent those years as a slave.

Jango could feel himself nodding off, exhaustion from the day catching up with him, or possibly the Sith artifact fucking with him. Either way, he only had time to ask, “Will you tell me about it sometime?” and hear a distant “I will”, before sleep claimed him.

++++++

Jango expected to end up in a slave collar next. That was what had happened in his life. But no, he woke up, somehow still standing up, next to a sleeping Kenobi, who didn’t look much older than he had at Galidraan. At least the Jetii’s slave collar was gone, though his clothes were just as dirty and threadbare. A sense of dread filled him as he pressed one hand against what looked like a sewer wall next to him.

His hand went through it.

They had thought Kenobi was a ghost because he hadn’t directly touched the Sith artifact, but maybe it was just bringing them both to the most traumatic points in their lives and whoever was The Traumatized, so to speak, got the corporality?

Ugh. And he couldn’t even shake Kenobi awake so they could worry about this new development together.


	4. Developing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapter count appears to be accurate. I'm as surprised as you areXD

He went to scout, like Obi-wan had done for him. Huddled against the opposite wall in the side tunnel where Obi-wan was sleeping were two other young teens. Apart from a few others, they were the oldest children he saw in those tunnels. Instead there were children as young as three huddled together for warmth in a large, nearby chamber which was dotted with old tombs. They were all in dirty clothes and some had adult sized clothing piled on for warmth, making them all look even tinier. One child, maybe 10 years old, had a festering blaster bolt wound that should have been treated ages ago.

There were supplies past the room where Obi-wan was sleeping. They had a handful of weapons, a depleted crate full of molding vegetables, and some sort of instant grain which would make a nutrient mush with added water. No medical supplies, and hardly enough food to feed the ade for one day.

Obi-wan was still asleep so Jango went to find his way out of the tunnels, trying not to think too hard about how this ‘ghost’ thing worked if he could walk through walls, but had to find a ladder to get above ground; if he did start thinking about it, his hand passed right through said ladder.

Above was a scene of devastation. Bombed out buildings and rubble as far as Jango could see. A tired looking child was on watch nearby, guarding the approach to the entrance. Jango approved of their leader’s foresight to do so, but they were in need of a watch relief soon.

Were there no adults left on this planet? Just this group of children who Obi-wan was doing his Jedi duty to protect? And where, for that matter, was Obi-wan’s protection? Where was the Jedi Master who was supposed to be his buir?

++++++

There seemed to be no opportunity for Obi-wan to find the time and space to get away so they could talk. Instead, Jango got to watch the despair and resignation on the Jedi’s face when he saw where he had woken up, wiped away when he saw the other two young teens were awake. The three of them were apparently the leaders of the children.

They bundled the food and weapons out into the main room, leaving some of the nutrient gruel back. It was handed to another child to cook. Jango was about to remind Obi-wan of the child on watch up above, but Obi-wan remembered himself and sent someone to relieve them. Each child got a small portion of gruel with the vegetables, mold and all, mixed in.

“They’re going to get sick,” said Jango.

Obi-wan heard him because his eyes jerked over to another tunnel. Jango went to look and deep within were the wrapped up bodies of ade. Not only were they going to get sick. They already had.

Jango wanted to be sick himself.

The three leaders spent breakfast looking over a tattered, marked up map, determining where they were sending scouting patrols for supplies during the day. Jango had hoped that Obi-wan could get a solo patrol assigned to himself, but when he tried, the red-haired girl, Cerasi, reminded him of their rule that no one went out alone.

So Jango got to watch their miserable existence for the rest of the day, growing ever more frustrated. Obi-wan had altered their supply run so at least it hit a cache of food and medical supplies, probably one he remembered finding before.

“Where is your lightsaber?” demanded Jango. “What are you defending against with that blaster? Are there other bands of children? Animals? Where are the adults? Are these ade the only ones left on the planet?” Jango knew Obi-wan couldn’t give him answers while others were present without sounding mad; not to mention some of these kids were understandably skittish as hell. But not being able to talk to anyone or do anything in the face of such suffering was driving him mad.

That… may have been the whole purpose of the karking Sith artifact.

They were attacked on their way back with the supplies. Obi-wan suddenly pushed one of the children forward with the Force and a blaster shot hit where the child had been standing. “Scatter!” ordered Obi-wan. “Indirect entrance only! I’ll draw their fire.”

The other children split up and ran with the supplies in countless directions. Obi-wan, meanwhile, stood his ground out in the open for one long minute, somehow dodging every blast that was aimed at him, then accurately following the shots back to their source with his blaster. Jango would have gone to scout out their positions if it had taken longer. The snipers fell silent, one by one, but Obi-wan still stood there, head tilted as he listened for something only he could hear.

Damn. He really was magnificent.

“You need me to scout?” Jango asked, just as a contingent of adult soldiers came around a corner. So adults were trying to kill these children?!

“No need,” said Obi-wan, casting a cheeky grin his way. “They’re right on time!” He made sure they saw him before leading them on a wild chase through the bombed out ruins. Jango realized he was drawing them away from any entrances to the sewers that the children might have used. He started scouting ahead, looking for places where Obi-wan could safely lay low, and they could finally talk.

He finally found one in the attic of a mostly intact house. Its roof was open to the sky, but that would serve them well if the patrol managed to get close.

“Never found this before,” said Obi-wan conversationally, professionally assessing the exits, even as he settled in against a wall which gave him a view of the ladder which was the only way an adult would fit inside. His hands automatically checking over his weapon in a familiar pattern. It was a pattern Jango had been able to do at this age as well, but he was Mando’ade. Why was a Jet’ika fighting a war when he was barely a teenager?

When he was satisfied his weapon was still working and they were alone, Obi-wan finally spoke. “The two factions on this planet, the Melida and the Daan, have been fighting a war for centuries which has essentially destroyed their planet and population. We’re actually in their capital, Zehava, right now.”

Jango cast an unimpressed look around the room and their view of the destroyed city.

“Yes, quite. A Jedi was sent to mediate a peace treaty between the two, but it turned violent as it always does. The Jedi was injured. The children of both the Melida and the Daan had had enough. Anybody above the age of 15 was being conscripted, or forced to work in factories which produce more weapons for the war. Whole generations were being wiped out simply because each faction believes they are the best. It doesn’t help that they have a warrior tradition where those who die are enshrined in a memorial hall, their holograms urging future generations to fight for the cause.”

“You were this Jedi?” Jango hazarded a guess.

“I’m thirteen at the moment, Jango,” said Obi-wan with some humor. Jango hadn’t exactly forgotten, but even at thirteen, the other was doing a good job at leading a group of children through a war. “It was Master Tahl, one of my Master’s friends. She was injured and blinded on the mission while I was out helping the Young, against my Master’s orders. The Jedi couldn’t interfere in the war here without a formal request from the government, a government which is run by adults who want the war to continue. The Young are just a splinter group who want their parents or grandparents to stop fighting.”

“Their buire and ba’buire are hunting them down and trying to kill them?” Jango asked, even though it was obviously the case. The idea was just so unthinkable to any Mandalorian. Even one who had abandoned most of his morals over the years such as Jango. Children were to be protected.

He felt a wave of guilt as he thought of his clones. The eldest were adults in body, but in mind? He was appalled by these child soldiers here, forced to fight their parents, but he was guilty of creating child soldiers himself. He had never tried to kill the clones, but he also hadn’t protected them.

Obi-wan, fortunately, wasn’t looking at him, caught up in his own bad memories. “Earlier,” said Obi-wan, “you asked where my lightsaber was. Qui-gon was determined to get Tahl to medical help off planet. I believed in the Young’s cause for peace, and felt the Force was telling me they needed help, despite our orders from the Republic.”

Now Obi-wan looked up to meet his eyes, something wild and young in them after all these years. “You have to understand that Qui-gon Jinn was a bit of a maverick among the Jedi Order. I’d seen him defy, or bend rules all the time in that first year of my apprenticeship, and he never really stopped over the rest of our time together. I knew he agreed with me that the Young were in the right, but the difference I didn’t see at the time was that Tahl was injured and near death. Qui-gon loved her, so he fell back on the rules in order to get her the help she needed.”

Jango was not impressed by this Qui-gon Jinn, especially knowing he was Dooku’s ad. “He abandoned you on this planet.”

“I insisted on staying. He said if I did I could no longer be a Jedi, so I left the Order. He took my lightsaber with him.”

Jango tried to imagine Jaster ever leaving him alone at 13 to fight a war, and without a weapon to protect himself! Hells, even Death Watch provided their soldiers with backup, and didn’t send children into war. Karking Death Watch were better than this Jedi shabuir!

“So this is after you were left here by that shabuir?” Obi-wan sent him a disproving look at the term, but Jango called it as he saw it.

“I don’t have any dates, but I remember Para’s injury. I’m hoping the medicine we found today will keep her from losing a limb this time.” He must have been referring to the child with the festering blaster wound. “We have another month or so before our planned destruction of the spaceport goes through, and we get the Elders to agree to a cease fire. I called on Qui-gon to return and help me mediate it, even if he wouldn’t take me back as his apprentice. Cerasi is killed during that negotiation.”

“And the Jedi take you back?”

“After a long probation, and it took even longer for mine and Qui-gon’s relationship to be mended.”

“I wouldn’t forgive my buir for abandoning me in the middle of a war,” said Jango. He certainly still harbored a tired, ashamed anger at Jaster for dying on Jango and thrusting him into being Mand’alor at fifteen. He perked up when he realized that hadn’t happened in this timeline.

“I forgave him soon after it happened. He loved Tahl, after all.” The unspoken thought, that this Jinn shabuir didn’t love Obi-wan, hung heavy in the air. Jango wanted to reassure him that even if the shabuir didn’t love him, there were others who did, except Jango didn’t know him well enough. Surely there were others who loved this warrior who fought so hard for people who weren’t his own?

But if there weren’t, well, maybe they had other options. “Have you considered that Mandalore is probably prospering in this timeline?” Jango asked.

Obi-wan gave him a tired look. “And what difference does that make to a planet far from Mandalore?”

“There is no way any Mandalorian would turn down helping a bunch of ade stuck in a war,” said Jango.

Obi-wan sighed. “Do you realize how odd it would be for me, a former Jedi padawan, to reach out to a planetary system, several sectors away to request aid? I don’t think I knew anything about Mandalorians, baring ancient history, at this age.”

“You can com me, or the Mand’alor,” Jango insisted. “Mando’ade would never turn down a bunch of desperate ade fighting in a war. You’ll get the help and backing you need to not turn this into a month long guerrilla battle.” Who knew how long Obi-wan and the ade had already been fighting? Obi-wan _had_ to see how insane it was to repeat this hell.

“And what if by calling them in I lose my chance to ever become a Jedi again? Calling another sovereign government to interfere in a Republic planet’s dispute is not a good look,” said Obi-wan flatly.

In Jango’s opinion, it would be the Jedi Order’s loss. Obi-wan had mando’karla to spare and was obviously a fantastic warrior and tactician even when not being inhabited by his adult consciousness. He’d make an amazing Mandalorian. Every Mando’ade who came to Melida/Daan would be fighting to adopt him.

Jango decided he needed a better argument here. “What if by not calling the Mando’ade in, more children die? How many of those ade down in the sewers are still alive a month from now?”

Obi-wan gave him a dirty look, before sighing. “I’ll think about it, Jango.”

“That’s all I ask,” said Jango magnanimously, knowing he was asking for a lot more than thinking about it. He decided to change the subject. “So the karking Sith artifact has us switching places now. I think it’s picking up on our trauma.”

“I agree, though I think the artifact is somehow picking traumatic points in our lives which we can live through and possibly change,” said Obi-wan.

“Then why didn’t we also live through your time as a slave on Bandomeer?” asked Jango.

“Your trauma was greater or maybe I was too young to be as traumatized as I should have been? Come to think of it, it really was the nicest, and one of the shorter times, I’ve spent in slavery. At least I wasn’t thrown into the fighting pits, or whipped that time,” Obi-wan mused. His hand was still creeping up to check his neck.

Karking hells! The Jedi didn’t take care of their own properly. Jango was surprised by how much he wanted to bundle Obi-wan away from them. Maybe if Obi-wan would call the Mando’ade, he could.

Wait! “But it can’t be all traumatic things in our lives because it didn’t start with my first family’s deaths.” That trauma had shaped all the others.

“Hmmm. When did it take place?” asked Obi-wan.

“Seven years before Korda Six.” He had the exact date and time burned into his memory, but he didn’t think that was what Obi-wan meant.

Obi-wan grimaced. “The only explanation I can think of is that I wasn’t born then.”

They really were in this together, it seemed. The thought was comforting rather than disturbing like it might have been a few days ago.

“I need to get back to the Young. I’ll put myself on the watch schedule so we can talk more often,” said Obi-wan.

“Have you considered that we might only have today to change things? What if when you fall asleep today, we get snatched away to the next trauma?” They had only had a day at both Korda Six and Galidraan. There was no reason to think it would be different here.

Obi-wan went still. Obviously, the Jedi hadn’t considered it. One of his hands crept up to rest on his chin as the Jedi fell deep into contemplation.

Jango went to scout. Both he and Obi-wan were stubborn bastards. Jango knew if someone pressed him, Jango would dig in his heels. Obi-wan was the same, even if it was hidden beneath the Jedi veneer.

When he came back several minutes later, Obi-wan was standing in the shadow of the roof, eyes a bit blank as he looked out over the ruined city.

“Area’s clear,” Jango reported.

“I can’t make the decision about the Mando’ade on my own,” said Obi-wan, almost apologetically. “But I can present the idea to Cerasi and Neild today, and write down the com codes so we can use them if they agree. Something I _can_ do tonight is contact Master Yoda. There are arguments that Qui-gon didn’t try, and Force knows, he was always sparing in his mission reports. I never was able to bring myself to read his on Melida/Daan so maybe he left something out that will cause the Jedi to act.”

Jango was doubtful, but didn’t want to ruin the hope in Obi-wan’s eyes. “Sounds like a plan,” he said. And if they did wake up on Melida/Daan tomorrow, they’d deal with it.

++++++

Obi-wan spent the entire trip back to the Young deep in contemplation, planning both his arguments to Cerasi and Nield, and with Yoda. He was grateful that Jango took point without comment. Obi-wan thought that even if they came out of the Sith artifact with everything unchanged, he and Jango would make a good team to take on Dooku.

There was a lot of worry and fusing over Obi-wan when he finally made it back to the old cemetery in the sewers where the Young were based. All reassurances that he was fine got him dubious looks, and Cerasi scolded him for drawing off all the Elders on his own.

Once they had had dinner, Obi-wan made sure that Para had medicine, and even used his meager Force healing abilities to encourage her to heal. That done, he asked Nield and Cerasi for a leader’s meeting.

It went about as he expected. Nield was torn between handling the Young’s problems on their own, and potentially having the firepower of the Mandalorians to back them up. Cerasi agreed that it would save many lives to end the fighting sooner, but _also_ agreed that asking a foreign government to intervene was a bad look. Obi-wan suggested ways they could frame their request that let them keep their sovereignty and not piss off the Republic too much, but he also wasn’t sure about the idea. He wished he had a week to contemplate the pros and cons of the action, but Jango was right that they might only be here for a day.

Obi-wan also decided not to mention the Mandalorian propensity for adopting ade and how that might cause issues if they called them. The Mandalorians had even tried to adopt _him_ several times during his mission on Mandalore, despite him being well over the age of majority and a Jetii. He didn’t mention it because he privately thought it would be a good thing for a number of the Young to have parents who saw them as something other than a body to die in an endless war.

That difficult discussion done, he also informed them of his intention to contact Master Yoda and plead the Melida/Daan’s case one more time. That got him some dubious looks from his fellow leaders, and arguments from Cerasi that the Jedi hadn’t helped before so why would they now, and didn’t Obi-wan belong to the Young now? Had Obi-wan actually been thirteen, he thinks he might have caved at that. As it was, he was insistent, and his friends eventually conceded.

He took one of their strongest working coms and headed deep into the sewers, using the Force to make sure no one was truly around them (excepting Jango) before he made the com. He’d known Master Yoda’s personal com code since Naboo.

“Who is this, hmm?” said Master Yoda, his hologram looking out suspiciously. Obi-wan belatedly realized it must be the middle of the night on Coruscant.

“Master Yoda, my apologies for bothering you. I wished to talk to you about Melida/Daan.”

“Left the Jedi over a girl, Qui-gon said you had.” Yoda’s face was the Jedi mask of calm.

Obi-wan felt a surge of anger, followed by despair. It was no wonder he’d been treated so harshly upon his return to the Order if they thought it was all over foolish young love. Jango was cursing out Qui-gon, and Obi-wan felt a bit better at the show of anger on his behalf. It took all his self-control not to smile his thanks at the man.

Instead, he kept his face calm and his eyes focused on Yoda. “I’m afraid Qui-gon has misrepresented the situation to you, Master. I stayed here because the Force told me that doing so would save these people and end centuries of war. The Young are not a small political group, but make up a substantial proportion of the population claiming governance over this planet.” Obi-wan was exaggerating only a little since most of the Young were based outside of the cities, and he had no idea how many there were. But the middle aged of the planet had been wiped out so the number of Elders compared to Young had to be fairly equal, and since the Elders were split between the Melida and the Daan, that meant the Young most likely were the majority. “As one of their leaders, I am formally requesting Jedi aid on the Young’s behalf.”

Master Yoda was studying him. “Argument that Qui-gon would make, that is. Learned well, you have. But Qui-gon does not request to go back. Wonder why, I do.”

Obi-wan knew why. “How is Master Tahl?”

He saw the realization dawn in Master Yoda’s eyes. “Still critical, she is.” Obi-wan nodded sadly. He knew Qui-gon had grown to love him over the years, but his Master was still so damaged by Xanatos’ betrayal at this time. Nor had Obi-wan been the best of padawans despite how hard he tried. Was it any wonder it had taken him years to get into Qui-gon’s good graces?

“Grounds for Jedi intervention, there is. Present this to the Council, I will,” said Yoda.

Obi-wan bowed. “Thank you, Master Yoda.”

Yoda gave him a stern look. “Take care of yourself until help arrives, you must,” he ordered.

Obi-wan smiled, warmed by the care the elderly Jedi Master was showing him. “I will, Master.”

He shut the com down with the sigh. Jango was talking, but he was just so tired. His body collapsed against the tunnel wall, and then, darkness.

++++++

Jango was irrationally irritated with Obi-wan for passing out on him while he was talking. He knew the Jedi couldn’t help it, but it was still annoying. He’d opened his eyes after what felt like a few minutes to discover they were on board a ship again. One hand through the wall confirmed he was still a ghost.

Obi-wan was huddled in a ship’s bunk. Jango did a bit of a double take when he spotted a shock of blond hair sticking out over the blanket. He changed angles and was able to make out the small form of a kid, clinging to Obi-wan’s back for warmth. Obi-wan himself looked to be in his early twenties, the gauntness and despair of Melida/Daan vanished.

It was karking adorable to see Obi-wan relaxed in his sleep, cuddling with an ad.

Jango looked around the tiny cabin. Obi-wan’s cloak was on the floor. Stuffed in an alcove was a belt with the Jedi’s lightsaber attached.

Wait.

He stuck his head through the wall, trying to see beyond the belt.

Was that a beskar vambrace?


	5. Negotiations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went to write an epilogue and it turned into a whole other chapter instead of an epilogue. Oh well.
> 
> Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers. I'm glad you're enjoying this fic:)

Jango scouted through the rest of the ship. It was Nubian; Naboo’s queen and her attendants were on board. There was also another Jedi in the room next to Obi-wan’s, though Jango didn’t recognize them. He could vaguely remember something happening with Naboo around a decade ago, about the same time he was recruited by Dooku. Was this that event?

Obi-wan was sitting up and looking fondly at the ad in the bunk when Jango returned. When he saw Jango, he reached out one hand and smoothed it over the kid’s forehead.

“He’ll sleep deeply for a while. He didn’t learn to throw off my sleep suggestions until years after this,” he said fondly.

“Is this your ad?” asked Jango.

“Yes. Anakin. You might have recently seen him from afar on Coruscant,” said Obi-wan lightly.

“Who said I’d been there recently?” asked Jango reflexively. He didn’t know why he was bothering at this point. He was going to tell the Jedi everything after this was all over.

“You just did considering I can’t think of any other time you’d have seen him.”

“Maybe in this timeline I have,” said Jango. “Look next to your lightsaber.”

Obi-wan frowned. He turned to the alcove where the lightsaber was stored and pulled it, and what was, unmistakably, a Mandalorian vambrace, out.

Kark.

“That’s mine,” Jango said. It had a different paint scheme then he’d ever used, but it had all the add-ons he preferred along with the long scratch across the wrist he’d gotten from a vibroaxe at 15.

Obi-wan was looking exceedingly embarrassed. “Are you sure? These add-ons aren’t that unusual.”

“Check the chain code,” suggested Jango, already certain. He wondered how long Obi-wan had spent on Mandalore that his hand came up and pressed the right sequence for the chain code with barely a seconds pause.

“Well,” said Obi-wan, after a long moment looking at the text. “It seems you are correct. I’m not sure why I’d have a piece of your armor.” The blush on the Jetii’s cheeks belied the comment. Jango suspected he knew exactly what it meant, but fine, he’d play along.

“It means we’re married, or maybe engaged.”

“Why engaged?” asked Obi-wan curiously.

“Because I can’t imagine letting my riduur go on a mission like this without backup.”

Obi-wan shook his head. “I’m trying to imagine a galaxy where the Council allowed me to marry a Mandalorian, but I clearly have my lightsaber so maybe I’m leaving the Order after my appren-” Obi-wan stopped mid word, one hand coming up to the side of his head. He rushed to the fresher to stare at himself.

“What?” asked Jango.

Obi-wan appeared a bit dazed. “I don’t have a padawan braid. I think I’m a Knight already. I was still Qui-gon’s padawan in our timeline.” Maybe the Jedi had realized just how awful Qui-gon Jinn was and found Obi-wan a better teacher? Obi-wan obviously had the same thought since he was digging his pad out of his belt pouch. He scrolled through the holopics stored on it before coming to rest on one of him as a teenager crouched next to the same Jedi he’d contacted on Melida/Daan.

“Master Yoda must have taken me on as his padawan after Melida/Daan,”said Obi-wan, wonder in his voice. “I can’t imagine why he’d have wanted to, but the evidence is clear.”

Jango scowled. The Jedi would have been fools to let Obi-wan go. “Is there anything else on your pad?” he asked.

Obi-wan triggered his latest message. Jango was somehow unsurprised when it was his holo that appeared. “We’re going through the blockade soon so we’ll be out of contact. K’oyacyi, cyare, and don’t let that shabuir get you down!” There was so much emotion in his voice when he asked Obi-wan to take care of himself.

Jango looked at Obi-wan, who had a faint blush across his cheeks at the Mandalorian endearment. He could hardly blame his other self; except for being a Jedi, Obi-wan was everything he had dreamed of in a riduur before Galidraan. He was an amazing warrior who followed his duty and principles even when it risked his own future, a leader who knew how to negotiate his way through the political and personal interactions that Jango had always struggled with as Mand’alor, and he loved and wanted kids. Also, easy on the eyes. Speaking of, it was a pity the Jedi had slept in most of his tunics.

“Jango,” said Obi-wan, the blush spreading down his neck. “Please stop undressing me with your eyes.”

“As a ghost, they’re the only tools I have,” deadpanned Jango.

Obi-wan ducked his head in a futile attempt to hide a smile. A second later, their flirting was interrupted by the door chime. It also caused the kid to sit up in bed with a start.

“Obi?” the boy asked.

Obi-wan paused to run a soothing hand over the boy’s hair before triggering the door. It slid open to reveal a tall Jedi with long, uncombed hair. The Jedi’s eyes were cold as they looked down on Obi-wan. “Knight Kenobi, I’m looking for my future padawan. Did he spend the night with you?” the Jedi managed to pack a lot of disapproval in to the question.

“Master Jinn,” began Obi-wan, and Jango did a double-take. This was the shabuir who abandoned their ad? “He did spend the night with me. I’ll have him out, and in the mess hall soon.”

“He should not have done so,” said Jinn.

Obi-wan gave a smile that was more a baring of the teeth. “Of course, Master Jinn. If you could let me know where his assigned berth is, I would be happy to return him to it.”

Jinn sighed. “You know very well this ship is overcrowded. He doesn’t need a bunk.”

“Anakin is from a desert planet, and this is only his second time in space,” said Obi-wan. “I found him shivering under the single blanket you provided him.”

“Hey! I wasn’t that bad,” protested the kid.

Obi-wan turned and simply raised a single eyebrow, looking at the ad. The boy’s eyes dropped. “Okay, so I was really cold, but Tatooine gets really cold at night too!”

“We arrive on planet today so you will not need to bother Knight Kenobi anymore. Now come have breakfast, youngling.” Jinn strode away.

“You weren’t a bother, Ani,” assured Obi-wan.

The kid grinned up at him. He took a step towards the man, then stopped. “Do Jedi hug?”

Obi-wan crouched down. “This Jedi does,” he said with a wink. The boy threw himself at him. Jango was a bit jealous of the physical contact.

The boy hurried off after Jinn, and Jango turned to Obi-wan. “You had better brief me on this Naboo mission before we land.”

++++++

It turned out they had over two hours before they reached Naboo. Obi-wan paused to grab a ration bar at Jango’s insistence somewhere in his explanation of the entirety of the Naboo crisis, but they otherwise spent it holed up in his quarters, trying to piece together what would and wouldn’t be different in the situation they were heading into.

Obi-wan went through the other holos on his pad. Most were landscapes of planets, some of which he recognized, but a few were of his precious people: him and Bant, arms around each other’s shoulders as they sat by a pool in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, another of him with Master Yoda, his padawan braid in Yoda’s hands, his entire crèche clan posed for a photo before their first trip to Illum, and him standing next to Cerasi and Nield, their faces dirty from battle, but looking happy. He showed it to Jango. The beskar’gam in the background of the holo was unmistakable.

He had to scan to the very last photo to find one of Jango, looking maybe a few years younger than the ‘ghost’ standing next to him. The younger Jango was stripped down to his tight black under armor and was posed with a training beskad (which looked suspiciously darksaber shaped), gesturing for the holo taker to attack.

“Doesn’t look too hard to recreate,” commented Jango.

“Why would you want to?” asked Obi-wan.

“Just in case this isn’t our timeline we’re changing. I wouldn’t want to deprive you of such a lovely holo,” said the man with a smirk.

Obi-wan snorted a little in disbelief before continuing to search through the pad, this time checking his messages. He’d forgotten that Qui-gon had been requested personally to investigate Naboo by Chancellor Vallorum. In contrast, Obi-wan’s mission orders were from Yoda, asking him to back Qui-gon up, despite their rocky past. There were messages from his usual friends at the temple, though he didn’t remember ever being so close to Cin Drallig in his own life. But the majority of the messages were exchanges between him and Jango, keeping each other up to date on the mundane details of their lives. He skimmed through them, aware they were running out of time before they landed.

One line caught his eye. “Jas’buir says he’s finally got the Jedi Council to admit that the Mandalorian wedding vows don’t conflict with the Code. We owe him and Dooku a crate load of tihaar.”

Hmm. He had actually witnessed a Mandalorian wedding while guarding Satine on Mandalore. He couldn’t remember the exact wording of the vows, but he remembered it was something about raising children together and sharing. There really was nothing in them about putting your spouse above your duty, which was the main objection the Jedi usually had towards marriage.

He showed the message to Jango. “It seems this is how we’re getting around the issues with the Code,” he explained. Jango nodded, a serious expression on his face. He was, no doubt, as shocked as Obi-wan was by their impending nuptials.

Obi-wan sighed. “There’s nothing on here about how Mandalorian intervention in a Republic planet is being justified politically.” He’d love a primer, or at least a list of highlights of what had happened over the last decade before Naboo. The changes in the political and cultural landscape with an active Mandalore in play must be fascinating.

“Maybe there was a precedent set by Melida/Daan?” offered Jango, though he appeared uninterested in the issue. “Is there anything about the Sith?”

“If things are happening like last time, our only orders about the Sith from the Council were verbal.” Maybe with all their timeline changes, they’d be facing a completely different Sith? Or maybe Obi-wan had done something different on Tatooine? It was probably too much to hope that Obi-wan or Qui-gon had killed the Sith during their first encounter in the desert.

Wait.

Oh no.

“What?” demanded Jango.

“Qui-gon and I fighting as a team were just barely enough to keep up with the Sith. It was only once we were separated that the Sith gained the upper hand. But, I’m not his padawan, and probably haven’t fought with him in years!” Considering how much disdain for Obi-wan Qui-gon had been radiating, there was no way he’d let Obi-wan and him establish a temporary bond so they could fight better together. And who even knew if their fighting styles were compatible at this point? Obi-wan had largely phased Ataru out of his repertoire in his own time, but with Master Yoda as a master, he was probably still using it at this time. His body probably was adapted to the Ataru moves, and he could throw himself into the Force during the battle in a way he hadn’t been able to ten years before, but would it be enough?

He didn’t know.

“Ask me,” said Jango, breaking into his spiraling thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Ask the me in this timeline to give you some sharpshooters as backup. They might have slugthrowers, and if not, the added distraction of having to deflect blaster shots and fight two Jedi at once should give you the edge you need.”

That… might be enough. Slugs were impossible to catch with a lightsaber; they simply melted and sprayed molten metal. And if the Mandalorians didn’t have any, the Sith’s aggressive style was not designed to deflect blasters and lightsabers at the same time.

“That’s an excellent idea. Thank you, my dear.”

It was Jango’s turn to blush.

++++++

They landed far from the capital on the edge of a swamp. Jango was impressed by just how many Mandalorian AIAT gunships there were, tucked in under the edges of the trees. There had to be at least 500 Mandalorians on the ground, though his eyes focused on a specific one who was hurrying through the crowd of verd’e to approach the disembarking Nubians and Jedi.

This timeline’s Jango was wearing armor painted in an unfamiliar combination of reds, blues and greens. He nodded his greeting to the rest of the group, but made a beeline to Obi-wan, pulling him gently into a keldabe kiss which sent Obi-wan blushing more than a full kiss on the mouth probably would have. Jango… Jango wanted to test that out in the future.

He groaned softly when Jango kept a hand on Obi-wan as they turned their attention to planning the assault. As ridiculous as it was, Jango was really karking jealous of himself right now.

As far as Jango could tell, things were happening mostly like Obi-wan had described. The big difference was that the Mandalorians had been freeing the Nubian citizens from the camps the Trade Federation put them in during the invasion. The Queen still went to appeal to the Gungans, but rightfully wasn’t as worried about needing their assistance considering she had an entire company of Mandalorians at her disposal.

In the end, the Gungans still acted as a distraction for the main group of battle droids, but they did so by luring the droids into the swamps. There, some of the Mandalorians backed them up from the air with the gunships and their jetpacks while the rest were part of the assault on the Theed palace.

Once inside, the Queen rushed off with most of the verd’e who weren’t guarding the perimeter. Four stayed behind with the Jedi and Anakin, two with slug throwers in their hands. Jango was unsurprised to see that he was one of those who chose to stay to watch his future riduur’s back. Obi-wan had fretted earlier about bringing Anakin into the battle, but they had no choice if they wanted to be sure the droid control ship would get destroyed. The AIAT gunships were maneuverable enough to provide cover for the Nubian fighters doing runs at the control ship at least, so the boy would at least have some more back up.

Sure enough, one of the bay doors in the hanger opened to reveal a red and black tattooed Zabrack in dark clothes. Anakin was ordered to hide in one of the ships, though Jango could only focus on the Sith and the double sided, red lightsaber he lit up.

“We’ll handle this,” commanded Jinn. Fortunately, Jango didn’t answer to him. All four Mandalorians shot at the Sith while Jinn and Obi-wan threw off their cloaks. The Zabrack deftly deflected the blasters, but snarled when the slugs hit, the molten metal spraying across their black clothes and setting them smoking. 

Then the Jedi engaged in a whirlwind of red, green and blue. There was almost a mesmerizing quality to it.

“Shoot!” urged Jango, at the same time as the physical Jango ordered his verd’e to stop gawking and start firing.

To Jango’s practiced eye, Jinn and Obi-wan were out of sync, but with the extra potshots coming his way, the Zabrack was unable to take advantage of it. Obi-wan looked magnificent, deflecting blows and somehow launching himself into the air several times. Jango would have enjoyed the display of skill more if Obi-wan weren’t dancing on the knife’s edge of failure. Several times, he and Jinn almost collided, and Jango found himself running forward when Jinn accidently knocked the lightsaber out of Obi-wan’s hands, even though there was nothing he could do.

Fortunately, his actual self was also running forward with his verd’e, showering the Sith with shots so that Obi-wan could call his lightsaber back to him, and delivered a punishing leg sweep to the Sith at the same time.

The Zabrack almost managed to come through. They jumped over the leg sweep, spun their double lightsabers in an impossible whirl and blocked a blow from Jinn. But one of the slug shots hit high on the sabers, sending the molten metal towards the Zabrack’s face. They lashed out blindly, striking Jinn in the thigh, but Obi-wan’s lightsaber was in their midsection then. The Sith collapsed like a puppet with their strings cut.

“You really should cut off their head, or destroy their hearts if you want to be sure,” suggested Jango, years of bounty hunting experience behind the words. “Zabrack are surprisingly tough to kill.”

Obi-wan cast him a disbelieving look, which hopefully no one had noticed, but went to test the Zabrack’s pulse. “He’s still alive. Do we have binders?” One of the Mandalorians produced them. Jango was amused when the real him also suggested Obi-wan just kill the Sith and be done with it.

Obi-wan managed to make his look of disapproval cover everyone there excepting Jinn.

++++++

Obi-wan was so exhausted that he expected to slip into another time jump any second. Except it wasn’t happening. His stubborn former master had accepted his shoulder to lean on as he limped out of the reactor chamber, Jango and the others carrying Maul. He forced Qui-gon to head to the infirmary, expecting to pass out the moment he sat down. Instead, Jango fussed over him, bringing him juice, and even a towel to wipe the sweat off. Ghost Jango hovered behind him, a similar worried expression on his face. Obi-wan smiled at them both, and ignored their protests when he stood up again. If he wasn’t going to pass out, he had work to do.

Qui-gon needed to go into a bacta tank if he was going to still keep the use of his leg, but he was, of course, insisting that those with worse injuries go first.

Obi-wan was saddened that he wasn’t getting a joyful reunion with his former master, but at least he’d kept the man alive. He could be content with that outcome.

He was excited that the Sith was alive as well. Maybe the Council members heading to Naboo could interrogate them, and the Jedi could actually make progress on finding the Sith Master instead of letting the investigation die like it had in the original timeline. And if the Sith was in the Senate like Dooku had said, perhaps it was time to cross reference who in the Senate had benefited the most from the Naboo crisis?

He was certain this Sith plot had been long in the making. Now that the Nubian conflict was won, the Force should have lightened, but it still felt darker than it should be, a heavy contrast to the lightness he had felt just a few days before when he was a six year old ghost. How dark would it feel when they returned to their own time?

Obi-wan had two Jango’s following after him as he went to check on the Queen. Once assured she was safe, and had everything in control, he headed down through the palace towards the hangers again where he could sense a jubilant Anakin.

Oh! He turned to the physically present Jango. “Have I told you about Anakin? I’m not sure if the Order will accept him, but even if they don’t, we need to free his mother from slavery on Tatooine.” In his grief over Qui-gon’s death, it had taken him over a year to learn the story from Anakin. Even then, he hadn’t had the resources to do anything about it. Not even his attempts to get them assigned missions near Tatooine bore fruit. But in this timeline, he had the perfect resource to free Shmi Skywalker.

Jango was staring at him. “You asked me this days ago,” he said. “I expect to hear back from my verd about successfully buying her any moment. But if you don’t remember that conversation, then you need to rest!”

Obi-wan could hardly explain that he didn’t remember it because he was time hopping via a Sith artifact. “After we get Anakin,” he said decisively.

Anakin was surrounded by the remaining Nubian fighter pilots, joy radiating outwards into the Force. Obi-wan collected him from the pilots, though he could only bring himself to half-heartedly scold the boy for flying a mission. It was hypocritical of him to do so considering he’d set Anakin up for it this time. Instead, he bundled the boy off with him and Jango, using the Force to draw them to an unoccupied suite of rooms. He declared that they were taking a nap, much to Anakin’s protests, but years of experience made him certain the boy would crash at any moment. He gently guided Anakin through some abbreviated bedtime routines.

Sure enough, he was out like a light the moment they were settled on the bed. The physical Jango looked down at Anakin, who was sleeping between them. “Are you sure we’re not adopting him?” he asked. Ghost Jango snorted in agreement.

“Qui-gon seems determined to have him as an apprentice.” And wasn’t that a blow? That he may have lost Anakin by saving Qui-gon.

“That shabuir isn’t fit to raise a tooka, much less an ad!” snarled Jango, though he froze when Anakin stirred before settling back down.

“The Order might not even accept him,” warned Obi-wan. His desperate, stubborn demand to fulfill Qui-gon’s dying wish might have been the only reason Anakin became a Jedi.

Physical Jango sent a devilishly handsome smile his way. “Let’s make sure he’ll be okay no matter what then.” Obi-wan watched in a daze as Jango coaxed Anakin awake, and explained to the increasingly happy boy about Mandalorian adoption practices. Shmi would still be his buir, but so would Jango, and when they married, Obi-wan as well. If the Jedi accepted him, he’d have the backing of House Mereel and Jango’s aliit, as well as Obi-wan as a buir, if not as a teacher. If the Jedi rejected him, Anakin would still have a home, a family, and a teacher in Obi-wan.

Obi-wan’s last thought before he fell asleep was that Qui-gon was going to be so very annoyed with Jango’s solution.

++++++

Jango’s hand grabbed the lightsaber. The obsidian artifact he was brushed up against shattered into thousands of pieces, making tiny tinkling sounds as they hit his armor and the floor.

“No,” said Obi-wan, despair etched across his features. They were still standing in Dooku’s rooms, surrounded by shadows. Jango clenched his hands into fists. There was no one around to fight, but he wanted there to be so he could rip his opponent to shreds with his bare hands.

“I should have known,” said Obi-wan, and he sounded so weary. “It’s a Sith artifact. They’re traps to cause pain. Of course it would never let us accomplish anything.”

“We considered this possibility,” said Jango, even though he knew it was no consolation. He handed Obi-wan the lightsaber, then embraced the man in the hug he had wanted to give him for what felt like forever. Obi-wan grasped him eagerly in return, equally touch starved.

It had been a trying four days. Or four seconds.


	6. Determinations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two points to remember: 1) Jango is the one who captures Anakin and Padme in the movie, but Jango ignored the alarms at the beginning of this fic. Thus, Anakin has still lost his lightsaber, but he fought him and Padme free. 2) There has been no Separatist/Geonosian broadcast started because there is no Jedi prisoner to cast the blame on. This means the Jedi coming to rescue Obi-wan aren't jumping right into battle *and* that Yoda is on Kamino. 
> 
> Thank you all for joining me on this Jangobi Enemies to Lovers speedrun;) Enjoy the final chapter!

Obi-wan focused in on Jango’s touch. There was no (already familiar) weight of a vambrace on his arm. The Geonosian room looked exactly the same, down to an extra cape of Count Dooku’s, hanging near the door. And the Force felt overwhelmingly dark.

Jango reached up one handed to pull his buy’ce off, before pulling them into a keldabe kiss, skin on skin. Obi-wan closed his eyes into it, feeling their breaths mingling together. He reached out to what little of the light side he could feel here. Jango’s touch was calming even though there was anger simmering beneath the surface.

“We did accomplish something,” Jango said, causing Obi-wan to open his eyes and look into Jango’s dark ones. “We changed ourselves, even if we couldn’t change the past.” It was such a sweet sentiment that Obi-wan couldn’t help the soft kiss he laid on Jango’s lips.

“You’re surprisingly optimistic, cyare.” He added the Mandalorian endearment just to see Jango blush. Obi-wan fleetingly wished they had more time to flirt and explore, to see if they could have as good a relationship as the Jango and Obi-wan from the artifact verse, but duty came first.

“Do you have access to the Geonosian com system? I’d like to know how much time has passed and how much time we have before we confront Dooku.”

Jango nodded, and fiddled with his com while Obi-wan scanned the rest of the room. His grandmaster had to have spent a fair amount of time here for the Force to be so dark.

“I didn’t note the exact time, but it’s only been a few minutes at most,” said Jango.

“So we have a little time?” asked Obi-wan. “I’d like to try slicing Dooku’s console if we do.” Hard proof of what was happening here would be very useful.

“We can spare ten minutes at most so work quickly.”

Obi-wan’s slicing skills were a bit rusty since he usually let Anakin show off his abilities, but there was more than one way to accomplish his goals. He reached into the Force, shuddering a bit at the coldness from the darkside. Habitual actions wrote themselves into the Force in small ways. He let his hands follow those actions until he was typing in Dooku’s own passcode. The console sprang to life.

Jango appeared at his side, handing him a datachip. “Just take it all. We need to move.” They were lucky Dooku kept his files meticulously organized. Obi-wan set to transferring anything that might be remotely useful.

“What did you learn?” he asked at the same time.

“The Geonosians are broadcasting an alert to find two humans: a male and a female. They called one of them a Jedi.”

“Anakin,” Obi-wan breathed out, utterly certain his padawan had disobeyed his orders and come to save him. Had he actually brought the person he was supposed to be protecting with him as well? He sighed. Of course, he had.

He pulled the datachip out, and stored it in his belt. “We had better move then. I should be able to sense him when they get close. I presume that at any minute the Geonosians might realize I’m not in my cell, as well.”

“Wait,” said Jango.

++++++

He had spent the minutes while Obi-wan was slicing planning out how they should approach Dooku. He had just witnessed two fully trained Jedi have trouble fighting a Sith even with four Mandalorians shooting slug throwers and blasters at them. Just how likely were they to come out of this fight alive having only one fully trained Jedi and one Mandalorian without a slug thrower? Even finding out that Anakin was here didn’t inspire much confidence considering Dooku was widely reputed to be the best duelist the Jedi had. That wasn’t even mentioning the Geonosian kill orders, and their karking droid army.

What if he fell in battle? Who would take care of Boba? He eyed the man who he’d obviously been happy with in that other life. Well, he knew one person who would do their best.

“Marry me,” he demanded.

“What? I like you, Jango, but I believe we have quite a few things to sort out if we want to have a relationship like we saw in the artifact.” It wasn’t a ‘no’.

“Agreed,” Jango bit out. “But we’re facing a dar’jetii _and_ a droid and Geonosian army. We both have ade to think of if we fall.”

“Anakin will probably be okay on his own,” said Obi-wan in a rather doubtful voice. Considering he’d destroyed a droid control ship when left unsupervised when he was nine, Jango couldn’t imagine how much of a disaster he was now as a teenager. Oh wait. He’d come to Geonosis, and also brought along the target for assassination he was supposed to be protecting. (Jango would have his work cut out for him if Obi-wan fell in this battle, though he dearly hoped he didn’t. He wanted them both to survive, and see how much they could accomplish in the real world.)

“Of course I’ll look after Boba for you, Jango.”

“Mhi ba'juri verde,” Jango reminded him; raising warriors together was the whole point. Not to mention he had an even better argument. “I signed away rights to the clones, but as my riduur, you might have rights to them.” It was insane to think of the two of them as buir’e to over a million ade, but he had absolutely no doubt if they put their heads together, they could figure out how to save the boys.

“You know,” mused Obi-wan. “By Mandalorian law, a buir cannot sign away their rights to their ade. Someone else can adopt them, or the children can disown their buir, but the other way around? Not possible.”

Jango’s eyes widened. “You mean the karking New Mandalorians haven’t changed those laws?” They had wiped out everything else about Mandalorian culture from what he had heard.

“Since they no longer use Mando’a, I don’t think it has even occurred to them how unusual the laws still are. It will be an interesting legal battle, I imagine.”

Jango grinned. “That’s a ‘yes’ then.”

“I believe that Sith artifact may have driven me insane, but yes.” There was a spark in his eyes, reassuring Jango that Obi-wan wanted this just as much as he did, despite the massive complications it would bring to both their lives. “You will have to remind me of the words,” said Obi-wan, stepping forward so they were facing each other.

Jango took his hands in his and recited the vows. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” _We are one together. We are one when parted. We share all. We will raise warriors together._ Obi-wan repeated after him. It was rather cute that he seemed to be unconsciously mirroring some of Jango’s own Concord Dawn accent.

They came together for another soft kiss that was both perfect, and left Jango wanting more.

But there was no time. Jango couldn’t even give him his vambrace since he’d need the weapons for this fight, though he resolved to remedy that as soon as possible. He’d swap in some of the plastoid crap for himself if it meant Obi-wan got the beskar.

They headed for the lift, Obi-wan deep in thought while Jango took the time to key Obi-wan into his armor and Slave I’s systems. After a moment’s thought he also left a note telling Boba how much he loved him, and that yes, Obi-wan was now his buir, plus a note for Obi-wan about the chips in the clones heads. That was all he had time for before Obi-wan was turning to him and outlining potential plans for their confrontation with Dooku. Four days of working together to change the past had at least made them an excellent team in a crisis.

++++++

Things were not going well.

Dooku had slammed Jango so hard against the wall his ears were ringing. Dooku was just fracking holding him here, unable to move! Anakin had lost his lightsaber somewhere, and was now down a hand, but still trying to defend Obi-wan’s flank with a shortened Geonosian pike as he faced off against Dooku. The Senator had impressively taken out most of the Geonosian’s in the room with a stolen blaster, but Dooku had knocked it out of her hand, and now had her pinned to the floor the same way he had Jango pinned to the wall.

Obi-wan and Dooku’s sabers were a blur, thought there were none of the acrobatics of the Maul fight.

“You know,” panted Obi-wan in a strangely conversational tone. “Jango and I just got married.”

Dooku blade dropped from its guard position for a fraction of a second. Obi-wan struck. Dooku’s saber and arm fell to the floor, and Jango dropped to the ground.

“What?” yelled Anakin.

Obi-wan ignored him. He held his saber to Dooku’s throat, the man was down on his knees. Jango willed Obi-wan to strike.

“Do you surrender?” asked Obi-wan instead.

“Never,” sneered Dooku.

Jango sighed. This is what he got for marrying a man with morals. He picked up his blaster from where it had fallen, and aimed for the dar’jetiit’s head.

The karking bolt stopped in midair, a streak of red against the dark Geonosian architecture.

“Will you tell me who the Sith in the Senate is?” asked Obi-wan.

“You’re too late. The Republic is already caught in a web with a Sith at its very heart.”

“Surely if all your actions here on Geonosis were to fight the Sith in the Senate, you would be able to give me a name.”

“You would never believe me,” said Dooku.

Obi-wan brought the lightsaber so close it was singeing Dooku’s beard. He didn’t look away, even as he spoke. “Senator Amidala. Ten years ago the Sith revealed themselves to the galaxy during the Naboo crisis. It occurred to me recently that if the Sith were in the Senate, they must have benefited from interfering at the time. Would you happen to know which senators gained more power and wealth from those events?”

“Lott Dod, the senator for the Trade Federation was censured afterwards,” said the Senator, a thoughtful look on her face. “The Trade Federation’s open allies also suffered, though all the worst offenses were heaped at Nute Gunray’s feet.” She suddenly looked troubled. “There is only one senator I can think of who openly benefited from the crisis: Chancellor Palpatine.”

Jango had only a partial view of the Sith’s face compared to Obi-wan, so he didn’t know what his riduur saw that made his lightsaber waver. “Palpatine,” said Obi-wan, a look of horror he hadn’t even worn on Melida/Daan taking over his face.

Dooku took advantage of Obi-wan’s distraction, throwing himself backwards, even as his remaining hand pointed at the Senator. She cried out as lightning somehow came out of his fingers, striking her for the barest of moments.

Anakin moved, driving the Geonosian pike into the Sith’s heart. The boy ignored the falling body along with the unfrozen blaster bolt which hit uselessly on the wall, instead hurrying over to the Senator. She was already trying to stand up from the fetal crouch the lightning had driven her into.

“I would have preferred to get more confirmation than that,” muttered Obi-wan when Jango approached. “But it couldn’t be helped,” he said with a sigh. Jango grabbed his nearest hand and gave it a squeeze of assurance. He was rewarded with a faint smile, and a squeeze in return before they approached Anakin and the Senator.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re the more injured one,” said Obi-wan. The boy seemed to have forgotten his own injuries while fussing over the Senator. “Let me help you shunt the pain,” suggested his riduur. Both closed their eyes for a long moment before some of the tension on Anakin’s face released.

“We should move,” suggested Jango. The Geonosian officials, who had been preparing for some sort of big announcement with Dooku, were all dead, but that didn’t mean the planet wasn’t crawling with both the Geonosians and their droid armies.

“Uhm, you were joking about being married, right Master?” Anakin was fixated on their still joined hands.

“Let’s discuss this once we’re out of danger, padawan.”

++++++

Obi-wan was grateful that Padme had taken over keeping Anakin quiet for their trip to the hanger and Jango’s ship. He listened to her in a way his teenage padawan had long since stopped responding to his master (Obi-wan would be really thankful when Anakin got through his bratty teenage years). Although they had to hide a few times, they made it to the hanger without running into anyone. The Geonosians were a hive people so no doubt taking out their leaders had thrown them into disarray.

When they opened the hanger doors, they all but ran into Boba, a large blaster clutched in his hands.

“Bo’ika,” said Jango with a sigh. Obi-wan’s new son was going to be just as much trouble as Anakin at that age, it seems. “That blaster is way too large for you.”

“Is the ship still ready for launch, Boba?” Obi-wan asked as he went past. They really had no time to stop. Jango was of the same mind since he scooped Boba up in his arms as they headed for the ship.

“What?” asked Boba. “What the hell is going on? Why are we working with the Jedi now?”

“Things change, Boba,” was all Jango said. He passed a befuddled Boba to Obi-wan as soon as they were on the ship. Obi-wan set the boy down. Boba looked ready to punch him.

“Let’s stow that blaster, and get into our seats,” he suggested to a skeptical looking Boba. He helped Anakin strap in, worried that his eyes were beginning to look a bit glassy; the shock of losing his hand was setting in.

Jango had them blasted off in record time. Once they were in space, Obi-wan was up as well.

“Boba, where is your medkit?”

“It’s in the compartment next to the fresher,” said Jango, climbing down the ladder from the cockpit.

“Kamino?” asked Obi-wan. It was close enough to get Anakin proper medical attention, and if his message had actually gotten to the Council, there might be a Jedi team waiting there.

“Kamino,” confirmed Jango with a nod. Four days of intense stakes and planning had truly put them on the same wavelength.

“What the kark is going on?” demanded Anakin, fighting through the shock with sheer willpower. “Didn’t he try to kill Padme?”

“That’s not happening anymore,” said Jango gruffly, while going to grab the medkit. Obi-wan wasn’t sure if he was directing the comment at Anakin or at Padme, who, Obi-wan belatedly realized, might be the only one in the room who didn’t know Jango was the bounty hunter sent to kill her (though why Jango had handed it off to another hunter was a mystery Obi-wan was going to have to clear up).

It was a small matter compared to the bigger ones they now faced. Obi-wan had hoped when he saw Dooku’s eyes widen slightly at Padme’s pronouncement that he was drawing the wrong conclusions. But simply saying Palpatine’s name out loud had sent shudders through the Force, confirming that the Republic was _already_ in Sith hands. He had seen on Padme’s face that she had come to the same conclusion, but they wouldn’t be able to discuss this with Anakin present; Obi-wan had foolishly let his apprentice become friendly with a Sith Lord.

It had seemed so harmless to let Palpatine dote on Anakin, and their meetings had given Obi-wan some much needed breathing space to grieve and figure out how he, freshly knighted and adrift from the death of his master, was going to train the nine year old Chosen One. By the time he’d had some misgivings on their meetings, Ani was firmly for them, and he’d realized going against the Chancellor of the Republic to stop meetings they both enjoyed would have soured the Jedi’s relationship with the Senate. He’d have risked it anyway if there had been any sign that Anakin was being harmed or coerced, but it turns out he should have since Palpatine was simply playing a very long game. He was extremely fearful what that long game was and how it involved his padawan.

Anakin was going to hate him for it, but his apprentice needed to go to the mind healers and discover what Palpatine had done to him. Obi-wan kicked himself out of his reverie. Anakin needed tending now. He went to grab some blankets for Anakin from Jango’s quarters in the hopes of staving off some of Anakin’s shock.

It was a testament to just how out of it Anakin was that he was letting Jango tend to his injury without protest. Not that they could do much more than put bacta spray on the stump, and administer some strong meds which involved painkillers and some preliminary treatment for shock. Padme helped Obi-wan arrange the blankets around Anakin.

Anakin began to look a bit better once the meds kicked in and he was warmer, which of course meant he found his voice again.

“You just said that about marrying him to throw Dooku off, right master?”

“I did say it to throw him off, but it was also the truth.”

“What the kark?! Is this why you’ve been acting so weird?” Boba demanded. He had been quiet up until now, but the boy had been watching everything carefully.

Jango sighed. “Language, Bo’ika. It turns out we have a lot in common, but our main reason for marrying so fast was to make sure you and your vod’e were taken care of.”

“Why are they my vod’e _now_?” demanded the boy. There was some sort of subtext there Obi-wan wasn’t grasping. Boba turned to Obi-wan. “You aren’t my buir!” he declared, then fled to the cockpit. Obi-wan sighed. This wasn’t going to be easy.

Jango reached out to squeeze Obi-wan’s shoulder in reassurance. Obi-wan leaned into the touch. “You won me over. You’ll win him too.”

“I hope so,” said Obi-wan, trying to keep the doubt out of his voice.

“But the Code forbids marriage, master!”

“The Code forbids attachment, Anakin, not marriage. It just happens to be true that most culture’s marriage vows involve putting your spouse before all others. I’m sure I will face some resistance from the Council, but Mandalorian weddings vows simply state that we will share our lives with each other, and raise our children. Both Jango and I are capable of putting our duty to our peoples over our attachment to each other.”

Anakin looked doubtful. “I don’t know if the Council is going to see it that way, master.”

Obi-wan had to agree with him, but their recent time in the Sith artifact had reminded him of a fact he had buried long ago; it hadn’t been a mistake for him to leave the Order to help the Young, no matter what Qui-gon had said. “If they don’t, then I will leave the Order. Any Jedi is free to do so whenever they wish, Anakin, and saving millions of lives would always be worth it.”

Anakin stared at him for a long moment, shock written across his face. “I’m going to have to agree with Boba; you’re acting karking weird.”

Jango chuckled. “You have something in common with your brother then.”

Anakin looked shocked at the very idea of having a brother, but he was finally losing the battle against the soporific effect of the meds, especially when Padme distracted him by taking his hand into her own. “Padme. What?” he muttered before falling asleep.

Padme’s eye’s met his, her face solemn and drawn. They had a lot of daunting issues ahead of them from Palpatine being a Sith to the Separatists and their droid army, to the clones and to the betrayal and death of his grandmaster.

Jango put his arm around his waist and Obi-wan returned the favor, leaning into his husband.

They’d get through this. Together.

++++++

_In the Artifact Verse…_

Obi-wan woke up with a sensation he had only felt once before, long ago on Melida/Daan; it was the feeling that he hadn’t quite been in control of his body or mind for the past day. After much meditation with Master Yoda, they’d come to the conclusion that it had been the Force, guiding him on a path he hadn’t been able to see on his own. He had no other explanation for why he’d have suggested the Young contact Mandalore of all places, or worked up the courage to contact Yoda. Both decisions had saved thousands of lives, and started the long chain of events that had to led to a closer relationship between the Jedi Order and the True Mandalorians.

What changes had the Force made this time?

He went into a shallow meditation as he contemplated the day’s events. The Force had led him to request Mandalorian backup against the Sith, which, in retrospect, was sorely needed. He thought that even if he and Qui-gon had a good relationship, they’d have been hard pressed to fight the Sith warrior. He saw transparent red barriers in his mind; the day before he had been 100% determined to not approach them during the battle. When Obi-wan asked why, the Force answered with an image of him on one side, and Qui-gon and the Sith on the other. It seemed likely the Force had allowed him to avoid Qui-gon’s and, maybe his own, death.

There was also a sense of satisfaction that the Sith warrior was captured and in their custody. Obi-wan didn’t concern himself with politics any more than he had to as the future riduur of the future Mand’alor, but the clear thought lingered that the Sith master was in the Senate somewhere, and the Jedi would need to investigate who had benefited from the events here on Naboo. He’d bring the issue before the Council.

He asked the Force if there was anything else it had moved to change, and his attention was directed to the boy sleeping between him and Jango. He had been anxious for Anakin ever since Qui-gon inserted the bet for Anakin’s freedom into their dealings with Watto. It seemed the Force had also been concerned until Jango suggested his brilliant solution of adopting the boy into their aliit. Maybe the Council would decide Anakin could be a Jedi or maybe not (if they did, Obi-wan sincerely doubted they’d give him to Qui-gon, no matter what the man might think; despite years of mind healers, the Jedi would not soon forget the Master who had abandoned his young padawan to war). But now, Anakin would be supported no matter what. The Force echoed his own satisfaction at the solution.

He opened his eyes to see Jango was staring at him.

“You all right, cyare?” he asked, reaching out a hand across Anakin to grasp his.

“I am now.” Obi-wan was certain of it.

And the Force concurred.


End file.
